Tide
by s1ncer1ty
Summary: Kili cares for a mortally wounded Fili.


**Title**: Tide  
**Characters**: Fili and Kili  
**Word Count**: About 1,000  
**Summary**: Kili cares for a mortally wounded Fili.  
**Notes**: Could be interpreted as Battle of the Five Armies. Could be AU. I'm rusty at this writing thing. No slash.

The tide had begun to turn. Amidst the cries of battle and the clash of swords came a stirring edge of victory for the small band of dwarves –- all the more miraculous as not all of them warriors. Some were tinkers and toymakers, or mere boys getting their first taste of what true war was all about.

Fili and Kili fought back-to-back, twin swords and true arrows singing through the enemy lines. Together, they were a formidable team, seemingly unstoppable in their fervor to fight for their Company, and to defend their King.

Until, over the din of battle, Kili heard a hard, wet thud, felt his brother slump against him. He didn't even bother to let his last arrow fly, as he spun and flung an arm across Fili's back, all but dragging him to a small outcropping of rock at the edge of the battlefield. Tumbling to the ground, Kili first scanned the horizon for the enemy before turning to his fallen brother, who lay pale, cold, and shuddering with strained breaths, upon the dirt.

An archer's arrow was embedded in Fili's chest, wet blood spilling from his wound to mingle with the crimson already staining his tunic and furs. There would be time for panic –- for screams or for mourning –- later. For now, there was only the urgent need to pull the arrow from Fili's chest before infection could begin to settle in.

"This is going to hurt," Kili uttered numbly. Spying a nearby stick on the ground, he snatched it up and held it before his brother's mouth.

"I wasn't expecting it to tickle," managed Fili before taking the branch between his teeth.

Fili made not a sound, not even a grunt of pain, as Kili braced a foot against his shoulder and yanked out the enemy arrow, although the stick fell away with its bark stripped and bloody. Crimson stained Fili's teeth and lips as he gasped in a gurgling breath. It was more than just an arrow that had wounded him; something inside him had been irreparably broken.

Kili flung the arrow to the ground and spat a dwarvish curse, sliding to his knees and clasping his brother's hand in a firm fist. "You're going to be okay." At a loss for greater words of comfort, he repeated it twice more, his voice lifting in pitch with each succession.

Fili made a choked noise that might have been a laugh. "You never were a good liar, little brother."

"The ... the battle is turning in our favor." Once the dam broke, he could not stop, and words spilled from him swiftly, and without thought. "Soon I'll be able to take you back someplace comfortable, with a warm hearth and plenty of ale. Maybe we'll return to Hobbiton... Yes, we'll meet again at Mr. Boggins'. Remember Mr. Boggins?" Kili's voice broke, for Fili's eyes had begun to flutter; he tightened his grip on his hand, shaking it in midair. "Remember?"

It seemed an eternity before Fili choked in return. "Baggins, you dolt. Of course I remember. That... would be nice."

Kili tried to smile, but it only morphed into a strained grimace. "The look on his face when he answered the door. You recall? When we washed his dishes? Blunted his knives? And we sang..."

"Yes, we sang," murmured Fili, "Blunt the knives ... bend the forks ..."

"Smash the bottles and burn the corks," Kili joined in, adding his tremulous voice to his brother's. As if on cue, both trailed off in unison, and Kili dropped his forehead to their joined hands. "You can't leave yet."

Fili smiled sadly. "I'm afraid you've little choice in the matter."

"Please," Kili whispered. "I -– we all need you..."

Somehow, Fili summoned the strength to lift his opposite hand, and brushed his brother's matted hair behind an ear. "The battle needs _you_. Among the living. Not dallying with the dying."

"You're not dying!" Kili burst out, his head snapping up angrily and his eyes welling uncontrollably.

"Then you're an even bigger fool than I'd thought." Catching a wheezing breath, Fili coughed, and blood spattered the front of his tunic. "And here I'd thought Thorin didn't raise a fool."

Kili shook his head, and a single tear slipped down his cheek; he brushed it away impatiently with the back of a fist. "No. No fools here. I just -"

"Kili, I'm tired. So very tired."

His face tightening in grief, Kili released his brother's hand – Fili at first resisted, until Kili lifted his limp weight into his lap and wrapped both arms around his chest. "Then I will stay until you sleep."

"Aye," whispered Fili, his eyes drifting shut as he settled his head against his younger brother's strong arms.

A low hum escaped Kili's throat, the rumbling of a lullaby Mother would often sing when both were but younglings. It was a tune particularly dear to the younger dwarf, who had suffered quite often from dreams both terrible and spectacular and would need to be soothed back into slumber. Fili had never needed such soothing, made of stronger stuff than his fanciful sibling. But what more could Kili do, now that Fili's breaths were growing rapider, yet shallower. It was all he could do to fight down a swelling scream and sing to its completion.

At last, as the lullaby's final strains bled to the wind, Fili ceased his struggles, and settled limply in his brother's arms, looking for all the world as if he were sleeping.

Grief turned to anger. Anger to a roar of rage. Kili slid his brother's huddled form to the ground and groped from the arrow he'd pulled from his body mere moments before. Now was not the time to mourn -– now was the time for vengeance, and he would fight with his remaining breath to bring to justice the enemy who'd shot that arrow. Slain his brother.

For Fili. For the doomed heirs of Durin. Kili notched the arrow and, shrieking, thundered back into the fray.


End file.
